


Mingling Memories

by vexbatch



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ghosts, F/F, Guilt, M/M, Multi, Red Room (Marvel), Talking To Dead People, Trauma, background ameriwinterhawk, dead partner, eventual blackhill, mention of PTSD, new power, the fic ran away with the author
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:27:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24952312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vexbatch/pseuds/vexbatch
Summary: Natasha Romanov has settled in pretty well to her place within the Avengers team, which means it's time to deal with the last bit of her past that has stuck around.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton/Phil Coulson, Natasha Romanov/Claire Voyant
Comments: 14
Kudos: 7
Collections: Natasha Bingo





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So! This is going to take a couple chapters to get going, but I'll be posting them all in pretty quick succession here. Thanks to Natasha Bingo for getting me writing again, and to BloodMoonInSpace for listening to me rant about ghosts.
> 
> I’ve heard of the idea of cannon. But I wanted to play with new!Bucky and also Doctor Strange and also Helen Cho. So cannon can go sit in the corner where it belongs while we play.
> 
> **Natasha Romanov Bingo 2020, Square G5: Sexual Tension  
> **  
>  **Clint Barton Birthday Bash Bingo, Square 4: Vacation**

The 30 hour road trip with two assassins and an archer  _ may  _ have been a bad plan. Bucky Barnes was new to the Avengers, and despite the pouts from Cap, SHIELD sent the unholy overkill that was both Natasha and Clint to take care of the small outpost in Albuquerque. If anything went wrong with the former Winter Soldier, Clint was pretty sure that Nat alone could handle it, but it also meant that he got to impose a Great American Road Trip on a man who couldn’t remember most of the past few decades. 

Clint had prepped the sing-alongyiest playlist he’d ever made, with some additions by Kate who had requested more Spice Girls and NSYNC after he’d helped her move out to the west coast and she’d gotten sick of Eagles and CCR. He’d also managed to fill their Official Shield Rental with some relevant snacks; the most recent flavors of doritos and oreos, bugles, gummi bears, and flamin’ hot cheetos. 

Despite all this, it only took three hours to turn Clint’s cheery outlook on a fun road trip into deep regret. He could usually prod Natasha into some amount of banter, but she spent the entire time glaring at the back of Bucky’s head. Bucky had spent his time staring blankly out the window, a thousand miles away. Steve had seemed to like the idea of Bucky getting more quality time with other agents, maybe finally making some friends in this century, which Clint thought was the only reason Phil hadn’t nixed the road trip idea. Unfortunately, it looked like all of them had underestimated just how paranoid Natasha would be about this; they had Stark, Banner, and Cho’s affirmation that the old protocols were gone from his mind, and Tony was even working on a new arm for the guy, but Nat had been the only one to deal with the Winter Soldier in his prime.

Still, Clint figured the best way to break them out of this funk was to sing along as loudly and cheerily as he could as he drove. By the third time his voice cracked during Dancing Queen, Natasha leaned forward and turned the radio down. “Clint,” she started, sounding downright murdery, “give your voice a break. We don’t need a sing along.”

“It’s a road trip! We’ve gotta sing.”

“Would help if I knew the songs,” Bucky grumbled. Clint positively beamed as he glanced over at Bucky, who was still looking out the window as though nothing had happened. But hey, at least they’d gotten him to say something instead of just brooding in the corner. 

Natasha sat back, apparently bored enough to start rifling through the snacks now that they could hear each other over the car stereo. Clint huffed to himself, before throwing a glance at Bucky. “Have you been to New Mexico before? I mean, that you remember?”

The other man continued looking out the window, but Clint’s aides picked up an irregularity in his breathing. “I think so. But it was...it was for a mission. I remember part of a map…” He lapsed into silence, now staring down at his prosthetic as he clenched and unclenched the metal hand.

Clint looked back out at the road, feeling a little guilty for dredging up the Winter Soldier’s past. It’s not like he didn’t know what it was like, to have someone scooping out the  _ you _ in your head and taking control...He hadn’t been trying to torture the guy, but maybe finding something to talk about was a worse idea. Clint stuck his arm out the window, enjoying the feel of the wind playing along his skin. 

A few songs later, Bucky rolled down his window too, sticking his arm out tentatively, mirroring Clint. Clint smiled, small and out at the road so the other man hopefully wouldn’t see. Now that Bucky started to tentatively relax, Clint started noticing just how attractive the other man was. The dark stubble, lending more definition to his chin. The long hair, playfully hiding the stern face, straight nose, furrowed brow. The sheer bulk of muscle hidden under the SHIELD issued shirt...Clint shook his head, refocusing on the road ahead of thim.

Once his mind had started to wander again, looking out at the expanse of hills, the rumble of Bucky’s voice washed over Clint again. “I think they kept me in Albuquerque for a while.”

There was a beat where Clint wasn’t sure what he could say, partially because of the clear trauma behind that statement, and partially because he really needed to clarify when he got back home if Phil was okay with Clint playing with Bucky. Clint was pretty sure that Bucky could melt him with that voice alone, but also knew he wouldn’t do anything without talking to Phil beforehand. Trying to snap himself out of the daydream, Clint quipped “well, Albuquerque is a dumb name, and they should feel bad.”

The tiniest of chuckles escaped from Bucky, overshadowed by Nat’s laughter from the back. “Well,” Nat chimed in, “it was named after a viceroy of Spain by some conquistadors, so a change of name would be a good idea.”

They settled into a more pleasant silence after that, and after a few more hours went by, Clint got Natasha and Bucky to play Yellow Car which ended up with Bucky then trouncing them until they got to their next gas stop. Clint could tell Natasha was still a little on edge, staying in the car with Bucky while Clint filled up instead of stretching her legs like she normally would. But the tension had eased, and did even more so by the time night was coming.

When 11 o’clock began to roll around, according to their internal clocks, Bucky offered to drive them through the night. 

“We can just stay at a motel, or drive in shifts,” Nat offered, a suspicious cast still on her face.

Clint made no move to offer a suggestion, as Bucky was already shaking his head. “We could do that, but the super serum fucks with my insomnia something terrible, and I’m never going to be able to sleep tonight anyway.” He turned around to look at Natasha, a first since they’d started this trip. “You’re going to have to start trusting me sometime. I can wake one of you if I do actually get tired.”

Clint glanced in the rearview at Natasha, who kept her wooden expression up as she surveyed the empty seat beside her. “Fine.” She started adjusting herself to fit more comfortably, sprawled across both the entire back row with her head positioned so that she could still see the driver’s seat. Clint sighed, and pulled off at the next gas station so they could top off and switch drivers at the same time. 

Once the car was stopped and both men had emerged to stretch their various limbs, Clint put a hand on Bucky’s arm. “Thank you for doing this. I appreciate you offering to drive through the night.”

The shorter man nodded, not quite meeting Clint’s eyes “You drove us most of the day. It’s the least I could do.”

Clint smiled and patted the ( _ my, very solid _ ) arm again. “Still. Thanks.”

Bucky shrugged, but met his eyes for a moment, a glimmer of gratitude hidden in there, before Clint took a step away and began pumping the gas. The quiet was all encompassing apart from the noise of the pump; the crickets chirped quietly, and a cloud drifted to show a sliver of the moon that remained. The farmboy in Clint closed his eyes and breathed in, finally finding himself in a life that he was at-home and happy in. Wasn’t that strange.

He climbed back into the vehicle soon enough, curling up on the passenger seat, while the former Winter Soldier drove them through the night. Just as Clint was drifting off, he heard Bucky quietly murmur, “thank you.”

.❇.❇.⭑⭑⭑.❇.❇.⭑⭑⭑.❇.❇.

Clint woke a few times in the night, enough to have a nonsense conversation about his dreams, but finally stayed firmly awake around 9am. He had sprawled out over the passenger seat,and when he looked over, Bucky actually had a smile on his face. 24 straight hours on the road was a lot, but Mission Make Steel Arm Smile was actually a success. Clint glanced back to see how Natasha was doing, only to find her curled back on one seat glaring at him. 

“I already messaged Hill; we’re dropping off the car in Albuquerque and getting a flight at 0800 tomorrow.” She unceremoniously threw a bag of funyuns at his sleepy smirk before turning her face away and presumably going back to sleep. 

Clint rolled his eyes, let out a huge yawn, and rolled down his window to get rid of some of the sleep-funk of the car. “You still good to be driving? I can swap you out; I think we’ve got like 6 more hours of driving today.  _ Or  _ 7 if you wanted to make a proper vacation of it and see the world’s largest pair of legs”

That actually startled a laugh out of Bucky, drawing a flush up Clint’s neck.  _ Fuck _ . Bucky glanced over at him, smiling and incredulous. “The world’s largest pair of legs?”

“Well,” Clint smirked, babbling to cover the sudden dryness in his mouth, “I think the largest ones are  _ actually  _ in Egypt, but this guy made some over in the top of Texas that we could go check out.”

Bucky hummed, looking back out at the road. “That could be fun. I’m good to keep driving, but we can switch at the next stop if it’ll help you to wake up.”

Clint leaned forward, adjusting his seat back into a more normal position. “Ooh, that’s a good idea! But also, the next stop needs to have coffee.”

Bucky nodded, and they lapsed back into a pleasant silence. The next few hours passed amiably with Clint and Bucky enjoying each other's company as Natasha slept in the back.

.❇.❇.⭑⭑⭑.❇.❇.⭑⭑⭑.❇.❇.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Natasha Romanov Bingo 2020, Square N5: Ghost AU**

The mission itself wasn’t complicated, or particularly difficult: eliminate the target, steal any intel, destroy the rest of the facility. Nat and Clint could have taken it easily, but they needed to see how Bucky would do in the field. They were pretty sure the fact that Bucky had been held there in the past was a coincidence, but Clint wouldn’t put it past Fury to have known about it beforehand and chosen the site specifically because of the Winter Soldier program. 

Steve had claimed that Bucky was fine, especially with the newly-replaced arm courtesy of Stark, and the mental rewiring courtesy of Banner and Cho, but both Fury and Bucky insisted on extra pairs of eyes until he was fully integrated with the team. Trust issues were just a way of life with the Avengers

Nonetheless, Bucky had proved his ability to take direction from Nat, and his willingness to destroy HYDRA bases with extreme prejudice. They’d made it to the airport hotel by 11pm, suitably grimy and disheveled. SHIELD had provided them with two adjoining rooms, but as soon as Bucky stepped in the shower, Clint decided he needed more of a distraction from sharing a room with a gorgeous man he wasn’t allowed to touch. 

He clambered into the vents, instantly more comfortable in the confined space as he scootched towards Nat’s room. Clint usually made a habit of crawling through the vents in any place that wasn’t his own. He’d say it was for security reasons, but the tight spaces were comforting and they made eavesdropping on spies so much  _ easier _ . 

Natasha had been weirdly distracted when they’d gotten to the hotel, even more so than on the drive down, so Clint decided that a little well-intentioned snooping was called for. As he wormed closer to the grate leading into her room, he could hear her talking to someone.

“Why are you still here?” Natasha was sitting at the end of her bed, glaring at the wall just next to the television. “Why can’t you fucking leave already?” She hurled one of her boots at the wall, stood up, and went into the bathroom. 

Clint’s thoughts whirled. Natasha had always been there for him when his shit got bad, when he just needed someone there to hold him as he sobbed. He knew the feeling of not knowing what was real and what wasn’t, but how was he supposed to explain that he had been eavesdropping on her? He let a slow breath out, and prayed that she would forgive him for this one.

With that, he punched the grate before him hard enough that one of the screws let go completely, dropping to the carpeted floor. He winced as he curled his hand into a fist again, wishing he’d worn gloves, before punching it again with a loud clatter. Two more screws popped off, and the grate swung noisily downwards, giving him a clear opening into her room. Heaving himself forward, Clint was pleased to see that some idiot had positioned the dresser directly below the vent, giving him the perfect place to leverage into a handstand before dropping fully into the room.

Unfortunately, the idiot performing the handstand also forgot about pulling something in his shoulder a couple hours earlier while beating off a couple of goons, so as soon as Clint put enough weight on his right arm to start the swing into Nat’s room, said arm crumpled. Abruptly off-kilter, Clint smashed sideways into the corner of the vent, catching the covering in the waist, before the surprise of it all had him crashing down into a heap on the floor. He moaned a little, and started moving each extremity slowly, to confirm that everything was still attached. 

By the time each limb had screamed it’s painful roll call at him, Clint was flat on his back, splayed out on the carpet, and opened his eyes to find a super spy wetly chuckling at him.

“Hey Nat,” he tried before coughing a little. “I think something’s wrong with your vent.”

She smiled, so Clint considered it a win. “Yeah, it’s got tactless archers falling from it.” She reached down and offered him a hand to help him up. He took it, gave a few old man grunts, and sat heavily on her bed. “You know,” she continued as she sat next to him, “you’ll wreck your reputation for being a professional spy if you keep dismounting like you’ve never seen a vent before.”

Clint perked up. “I have a reputation?”

Natasha just laughed and shoved her shoulder against his.

He kept the contact in their shoulders by leaning a little against her. “You doin’ alright?”

She stared into her lap, not answering, but didn’t move away from him.

He sighed and looked down at his beaten up tac pants, picking at one of a thousand frayed threads. If he couldn’t open up to Nat about this, then there wasn’t anyone he could talk to. She was family, in the way that word was  _ supposed _ to be meant, and he knew she didn’t have much outside of him either.

_ Besides _ , he thought,  _ she already knows I’m crazy, and she’s still here. She probably won’t walk away.  _

Clint closed his eyes against the pricking feeling that meant tears were close, and began talking.

“After Budapest, I…” He took another steadying breath. “I started talking to people that weren’t there. Seeing things. Reliving shit.” Clint lapsed into silence again, words stuck in his throat. 

The mattress dipped as Natasha flopped back. “Like PTSD?”

Clint opened his eyes and looked over. She was still there, just staring up at the ceiling. “Mmmmhmm.” He took another breath. “It’s uh…...kind of embarrassing.”

She turned away from him, rolled up on her side, but held her arm out to him.  _ Oh thank fuck.  _ He scrambled up behind her to be the big spoon, gingerly placing weight on his right shoulder. She grabbed his left hand and held it close around her middle, like she had when he’d first saved her. That was back before they had realized they were better as a family than lovers, before either realized that the other might give a shit not attached to sex.

They laid there for a moment, comfortable in each other’s presence, but with the tension of secrets about to be shared.

“I’ve been seeing her since before Budapest,” Nat started. “She...she was in the Red Room with me.” Clint squeezed her hand as her voice hitched with a sob. “Her name is Claire. S-She didn’t make it out,” Natasha whispered.

Clint just held onto her for a long while, listening to their breathing. After a while, her breathing calmed down to near-sleep, and he heard her whisper “thank you” before falling asleep. He waited a few more minutes, until her hand loosened on his, to dig the tactical aides out of his ears and toss them near the bedside table. She let out a sleepy grumble at the removal of his hand, but he put it back and snuggled back down with her to fall asleep. They would be okay. Just a couple of broken agents, dealing with what life threw at them.

.❇.❇.⭑⭑⭑.❇.❇.⭑⭑⭑.❇.❇.

*** two weeks later ***

**Nat** **  
** _ Tall, dark, and broody is checking out your ass again _ _  
_ _ Tell him to keep it to the bedroom, yeah? _

**HawkGuy**   
☺️   
Hey _ , aren’t you proud of me for finding  _ two _ eligible young men to debauch? _

**Nat** **  
** _ I’d be more impressed if Phil and I didn’t have to lock you two in a closet before you admitted to liking each other _

**HawkGuy** **  
** _ Aww, you love me _

**Nat** ****  
_ A decision I regret more with each passing day _ _  
_ 😘

.❇.❇.⭑⭑⭑.❇.❇.⭑⭑⭑.❇.❇.

It was a few weeks later, and Natasha was over early for no particular reason. She hadn’t said anything, but when Clint stumbled out of his bedroom, she was on the couch reading and there was fresh coffee in the pot. She didn’t look up at him when he came in, so he left the purple at-home aides slung on the hook next to the coffee pot and poured himself a mug. He got about halfway through it, just dazedly standing there, before he remembered the Saturday Morning Cartoons he promised himself. Phil and Bucky were  _ both _ out on a mission at the same time without him, which Clint thought was just cruel, but it also meant that distractions were on the to-do list until they both got home.

Clint threw some cereal in a bowl, confirmed the milk hadn’t gone bad, and added just a little before tossing it back in the fridge. He grabbed a spoon out of the drying rack Nat had given him as an apartment-warming gift, topped his coffee off, and wandered over into the living room. 

Flopping onto the couch, Clint booted up some old Looney Tunes, perfect for lazy mornings since there were enough visual cues that anything auditory was just overkill. Settling back on the old busted couch Phil hadn’t replaced yet, he smirked as the logo popped up before panning over to find Wile E Coyote on some hijinks in the desert.

Just as an anvil was falling to comically smash into the Coyote, Clint felt a nudge in his thigh. He jumped a little, having mostly forgotten Nat was there, then glared at her. Balancing his cereal bowl in one hand, he signed  _ What. _

She stared blankly at him for a minute, and he poked her foot. That at least got her to set the book down, then sign  _ I don’t have PTSD. _

Well that was different. He set the bowl down on the coffee table, and turned to look at her.  _ Okay. Are you still seeing ghosts? _

_ Yes _ . Well that was confusing.  _ It’s not just Claire. In Sao Paulo, I knew it was a setup because one of the dead agents told me where the mark was. He  _ _ talked _ _ to me. _

Clint just stared at her for a minute. This was new.  _ So you’re a ghost whisperer now? _

_ I guess? _

He was definitely not awake enough for this conversation. After another cup of coffee and a shower maybe he would deal with this. Maybe. 

For now, he shrugged, signed  _ Okay _ , and picked up his coffee. Out of his peripherie he saw her pick the book back up, and he went back to staring at the television, though he wasn’t really watching it anymore. 

What the hell were they going to do with ghosts?

.❇.❇.⭑⭑⭑.❇.❇.⭑⭑⭑.❇.❇.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit to the lovely faded_sepia for Clint calling Phil 'PJ'.  
> Claire Voyant looks a little different in this fic, because fuck cannon.
> 
> **Natasha Romanov Bingo 2020, Square B2: Tower Fic**

After Clint’s rather underwhelming reaction to her being able to see and communicate with the dead, Natasha slipped out while he was in the shower and headed back to her quarters at Avengers Tower. She had her own hidey hole in town, but if she was going to test the limits of these powers, she wanted to do it in a place that could afford to deal with the consequences. 

Not that she would ever tell anyone what the cause of any potential destruction was. 

She hummed at JARVIS as he welcomed her into the building, and pushed the button for her floor. The sight of rising above the other buildings was usually a breathtaking one that she allowed herself to indulge in, but Natasha ignored it today. By the time the elevator hit the 73rd floor, Natasha had already managed to get a pretty consistent green sparking in front of her, but it was still formless. She stalked into the large room that served as a living room and sat in the middle of the floor, staring at a blank spot on the wall. 

She took a few deep measured breaths, closed her eyes, and went back to the place the Red Room taught her to go before a mission. Everything was blank and empty, no feelings, no connections. 

Opening her eyes, she focused every fiber of her being on seeing Claire Voyant. Perfect, curled black hair. Endless brown eyes. A smattering of freckles. Mischievous smile. Sixteen and full of life.

Nat blinked, and there she was. Claire was sitting cross-legged across from her, serious expression and slightly see-through. There was a green, crackling energy outlining her, but the longer Natasha looked, the more solid Claire became until there was only the faintest outline to let Natasha know that her childhood love wasn’t really there in front of her.

Was still dead.

But sitting right in front of her.

“Natasha, you appear to have a visitor. Shall I alert the-”

“No, JARVIS,” Natasha cut in, “ thank you.”

After a brief moment, JARVIS responded. “Very well. I will continue to monitor.”

Letting out a breath, Natasha looked back at Claire, who was still sitting there, now staring up at the ceiling. Very quietly, she said “Claire?”

Claire looked back at Natasha, and Nat could feel herself falling forever in those eyes, remembering the nights they snuck away together and-

“Natasha, who is JARVIS?”

Nat blinked. She had yelled at the spectre many times before, but Claire had never spoken back. “JARVIS is the AI who runs the Tower. Um, the Tower is-”

Claire was standing up, staring at the ceiling and pacing, just like she used to, as if this were just another puzzle the Room had put before them. “Yes, Avengers Tower, 200 Park Avenue. I do listen  _ sometimes _ when you let me through.” She flopped on the couch, but the cushion underneath her didn’t move at all. “So is this another mission? Infiltrating the team or something?”

Tears were pricking behind her eyes, but Natasha blinked a few times to banish them, standing up slowly. “No. I...I escaped the Red Room, Claire.”

Claire froze on the couch, her gaze becoming more intense. “You actually got out?”

Natasha nodded. “Clint saved me. I actually work with SHIELD and the Avengers now. We’re…” She chuckled. “We’re the good guys, I think.”

Claire laughed at that, and Nat enjoyed their laughter mingling again. They locked eyes a moment, and something hardened in Claire. “How can you ever tell?”

A chill swept through Natasha at that, and another ghost appeared next to Claire. They both stared for a moment, before Nat brought a hand to cover her mouth.

The first day after the operation, Nat had seen a boy wandering around that she had seen a few times before, but when he bumped into her, he passed through her. It was the first time she had seen the green sparks of the apparitions, and after carefully observing him for the rest of the week, she determined that she must simply be hallucinating after her operation. He hadn’t appeared to her once she’d left the Red Room, once she’d turned her back and never gone back but…

But something about what Claire said jiggled him loose.  _ How could you know who the good guys were when the people who raised you killed the boy down the hall? When they made you torture and kill your  _ _ girlfriend  _ _ partner. _

A tear trickled down Natasha’s cheek. As soon as she noticed it, she threw her arm out at the ghosts before her, and they dissolved immediately, a wave of green sparks washing over her couch for a moment before she was alone again. “JARVIS,” she croaked out, “lockdown mode.”

There was a quiet hum, and the windows blacked out while JARVIS halted any recording or observation of her floor.

She may be part of this team now, but that was no reason to let anyone see her cry.

.❇.❇.⭑⭑⭑.❇.❇.⭑⭑⭑.❇.❇.

**HawkGuy** **  
** _ Hey, you disappeared. Everything okay?  _

**Nat**   
_ Had something to take care of back at the Tower. Sorry _

**HawkGuy** **  
** _ Would that something have to do with one Pepper Potts? _

**Nat** **  
** _ Clint, she’s not interested _

**HawkGuy** **  
** _ Nat, she definitely fucking is _

.❇.❇.⭑⭑⭑.❇.❇.⭑⭑⭑.❇.❇.

*** one week later ***

Natasha knew that Coulson and Rogers insisted on the movie nights for team bonding, but it didn't stop her from resenting that they still had to gather in the massive living room after a mission went south. Tony had insisted that Steve and Bucky get caught up on the Fast and Furious series, but last week’s showing had proved to be more heckling than appreciation. Stark had put this one in with a grim expression, but nothing could stop the might of those who actually knew something about fighting from insulting less-than-realistic movies. Typically Nat loved to join in, but she was still distracted by the events earlier that day. 

Logically, Nat knew it wasn’t her fault for not being able to run properly after being tranq’d. She knew that Falcon had been stationed where he had specifically to cover her ass. But the bullet in the data drive still punched a hole in her pride. Coulson and Hill were just glad that the information wasn’t in anyone else’s hands, but Natasha couldn’t stop running the scene over and over in her head. Watching the moment she should have ducked or backflipped or at least known the freaking gun was coming out on her left so she wouldn’t have been compromised. So the intel wouldn’t have been lost. 

As she reimagined the moment when a bullet went through the drive, a burst of shots came through the speakers, and she jumped. At the same instant, across the room Sam’s popcorn bowl flew out of his hands and onto Tony. Natasha stared across, where she could plainly see Claire sitting next to the man that had covered her ass today, Claire’s hand still outstretched from knocking the popcorn.

There was a beat of silence before Clint and Sam started laughing, Tony started cursing, and they generally went back to their normal rambunctious selves. Claire looked over at Natasha and fizzled away, around the same moment one of Tony’s endless bots buzzed over to clean up. Soon enough, everyone went back to watch-shouting at the movie.

Glad she had chosen to sit apart from the group, Nat continued staring at the space Claire disappeared from. After a moment, she pulled out her phone and started scrolling to find ‘HawkGuy’. She was loath to tell anyone her secrets or admit weakness, especially in a group that would just subject her to poking and prodding. The thought of Banner and Stark running tests with her strapped to a chair made her shiver involuntarily. 

Fortunately, Clint already knew about her issue.  _ ‘That was me. We need to talk after the movie.’ _

As Nat put her phone away, Clint drew his out. As he read, his eyes widened and he looked over at her. Nat shook her head, to which he rolled his eyes and turned back to the film, snuggling down between Phil and Bucky. 

.❇.❇.⭑⭑⭑.❇.❇.⭑⭑⭑.❇.❇.

“What the hell is going on,” Clint hissed as he dragged Nat into the stairwell just outside the main living room. Normally they would take the elevator up to either of their suites, but Tony was once again failing to convince Thor that the elevator was worthy. Sam had started bringing up the argument that JARVIS was just as sentient as Vision, so clearly JARVIS was worthy, but JARVIS had actually rebutted with the list of differences between AI and sentience. Typically Clint would love to throw a (mostly metaphorical) wrench into these arguments, but he was too concerned over Nat’s cageyness. The super spy was actually exuding a nervous energy, something she normally only indulged when firmly denying any affection for Pepper. “Did you suddenly become telekinetic?”

With agonizing slowness, Natasha waited for the door behind them to close and climbed an entire floor of stairs before she abruptly turned and sat down. Clint just stared at her from four steps below. Waiting out answers wasn’t his favorite, but something had clearly gotten Natasha riled up, and he knew her well enough to know that she needed a dramatic silence before she would feel comfortable opening up about it.

She took another few deep breaths before beginning. “I told you I can see ghosts.”

Clint just nodded, waiting for her to go on, but an idea wafted through his head. “Wait, do you mean...Did you  _ summon _ a ghost? Like a poltergeist?”

She shot him a panicked look. “It’s not like I  _ asked _ for her to come! I just see her sometimes. And I guess she can move things now…”

He climbed the last few stairs to sit next to her. “And we know it’s not some evil thing from another realm because it’s-”

Natasha had recoiled from him, face hardened. “It’s  _ Claire. _ She’s no more evil than I am.”

“Right.” Clint turned to look at her with a mock-serious expression. “Remind me, how evil is that again?”

A smile broke out, and she shoved him into the wall.  _ Ah, finally _ . “Yeah, yeah.”

He laughed and knocked back into her. “Okay, but we should probably have someone look into this, right?” He grabbed her shoulder to steady her, as he felt her closing up again. “No, I don’t mean- Not Tony, alright? No one’s gonna lock you up or study you, okay?” 

Natasha nodded, but wouldn’t meet Clint’s eye now.  _ Shit _ . “Who else did you have in mind,” she muttered, voice low.

“What about that guy, the like, mystical guy? I think Maria met with him, he can bend space or whatever. I think he’s supposed to know about other dimensions?”

After a moment, she blinked up at him. Her eyes were a little wetter than they had been, but she seemed calm enough now. “Doctor Strange. Yeah, I...I supposed we could do that.” She reached out and grabbed Clint’s knee so hard he could already feel it bruising. “But only if you come with me. We barely know him, and I am  _ not  _ doing this alone.”

Clint just nodded, and patted the hand that had his kneecap in a death grip. “Alright Nat. We’ll go tomorrow, yeah?” She nodded and they sat on the stairs for a while longer, listening to the distant sounds of the rest of the team arguing inside the elevator. “Do you want to be alone tonight?”

Looking up at him, she frowned. “I don’t think so. I’d rather know that who I’m seeing is really here, if that’s alright.”

He smiled. “Yeah of course. Just let go of my leg, so I can text Phil and-” he could feel a blush creeping up his cheeks, “-and Bucky.” That startled a laugh out of her that fortunately also loosened her grip. He made a big show of clutching his knee. “Finally! It is back from the war, and I can feel the sweet tingle of blood flow again!” 

She laughed a little more and shoved him. “Texting, yes?” 

“Let me embrace my long-departed limb! This is an emotional moment for me!”

Natasha snickered as she got up, beginning to climb the remaining two floors to her suite of rooms. Clint wrestled his phone out of his pocket, unlocking it to find one still unread message from Phil.

**PJs** **  
** _ You’re missing elevator shenanigans _

**HawkGuy**   
_ Hey, I’m going to stay in the Tower tonight with Nat. She’s going through some personal stuff and doesn’t want to be alone _

He waited for a moment, gratified to see the typing symbol pop up so quickly. He made it up a floor before checking the phone again to see

**PJs** **  
** _ Sounds good; thanks for letting me know.  _ _   
_ _ More Lucky snuggles for me! [dog.jpg] _

Clint grinned down at the week-old dorky photo of Phil mostly obscured by a very blurry dog that  _ might _ vaguely resemble the mutt Clint had kept for the past two years. 

**HawkGuy**   
_ Miss both you dorks already.  _ _   
_ _ Would it be possible for you to send me Doctor Strangest address?  _ _   
_ _ *Strange's _

**PJs** **  
** _ Are you going to tell me why? _

**HawkGuy** **  
** _...as soon as I'm pretty sure Nat won't kill me for telling you? _

Phil made him wait a full two minutes for that one, during which he switched over to Bucky’s chat.

**HawkGuy** **  
** _ Hey, sorry for disappearing. Nat needs a person tonight, so I’ll probably be unresponsive the rest of the night _

**Bucket** **  
** _ Okay. We still on for Sunday morning? _

**HawkGuy** **  
** _ Yes, I’m excited _

He smiled down at Bucky’s contact photo, a slightly blurry side-view, before flipping back to Phil’s. There was still no response. Clint tousled with the guilt as he climbed the last set of stairs to where Nat had left the door open for him. He loved Phil and didn't want to keep anything from him, but this wasn't his secret, and he didn't want to lose Nat's trust. Fortunately, he was pretty sure Phil wouldn't make him choose between his partner and his best friend. 

Pretty sure. 

He stood on the top step before Nat's apartment, working up the courage to look back at his phone again. After a full minute, he managed to glance down and see

**PJs** **  
** _ Acceptable. [Contact Card.Strange]  _ _   
_ _ I don't intend on losing you, especially not to one of our own agents  _

**HawkGuy** **  
** _ :) love you, pj _

**PJs** **  
** _ you better _ 😘

.❇.❇.⭑⭑⭑.❇.❇.⭑⭑⭑.❇.❇.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Clint Barton Bingo Square 9: "Aww, ____, no..."**

“Why did I let you talk me into this?” Nat scowled down the street as the entrance to the New York Sanctum. Waking up to another body had been nice, though she had been positively wrapped in Clint until she reminded him that fresh coffee was probably available downstairs They had slipped in and out of team breakfast easily enough, but Natasha regretted their decision more with each passing footfall.

“Because when your old dead girlfriend is haunting you, you go to the doctor?” She could feel Clint glance at her, but she kept focused on the rapidly approaching building. “Because you don’t want it to be something less innocuous than popcorn next time?"

Natasha sighed. "Right. Lethal popcorn.” She hesitated another moment in front of the large wooden door, Clint a half a step behind her, before pushing it open. 

A gentle chime sounded from somewhere deep inside the house, and a golden whirling symbol opened before them, depositing Doctor Strange. “Hello! You are from SHIELD? Agent Coulson said you might be along shortly. Come, this way.” And with that, the doctor strode off deeper into the house. 

Natasha paused for a moment to glare back at Clint, who raised his hands. “How was I supposed to know that Phil would tell him we were coming?!”

She rolled her eyes and stepped inside, considering that it probably made things a little easier. The inside of the Sanctum looked like an older New York home had suddenly merged with a museum. Every room and hallway had hardwood floors running through them and turn-of-the-century decor, but all the walls were lined with a seemingly endless supply of display cases. Nat could feel Clint slowing a little behind her to gawk at the displays, but she just kept following the flowing robes in front of her. The sooner they got through this maze, the sooner they would be done. 

Finally, Strange led them to a parlor largely decorated in light pinks and filled with yet more displays, along with two chairs and a chaise, a matching set from the late 1800’s. Attempting to carry as much dignity as she could, Natasha sat in one of the chairs with Clint flopping into the one next to her, forcing Doctor Strange onto the chaise across from them. 

He stared at them for a moment, before finally asking, “What is it that you need?”

Natasha could feel both sets of eyes on her, knew how she should respond, but couldn’t get her mouth moving properly.  _ Think _ . Natalie Rushman knew how to handle this situation. It had become a favorite alias of hers after the closeness she had developed with Pepper. So Natasha closed her eyes, and became Natalie.

“I’ve been experiencing some odd occurrences. I’ve been seeing a ghost, well, ghosts. They appear with a green energy, and are sometimes nearly see-through. On one occasion, the ghosts have interacted with physical objects. So far I am the only one that can see them, however,” and here she hesitated. It sounded crazy, but he might be able to understand what was happening. To help. “On another occasion, the AI in Avengers Tower was able to detect the presence of the ghost.”

Doctor Strange nodded, and looked at her for a moment more. “There are several possibilities as to what this could be. Why are you convinced that you are seeing ghosts and not some other form of life projecting into your life?”

_ Right.  _ “Because I know her. I-....The ghost that I see most often, I knew her from...from my past. She spoke to me, and talking to her brought another ghost, someone else I knew at the same time in my life.”

As she lapsed into silence, the doctor nodded again and stood up. “If I might, there is a spell that should allow me to see more clearly what dimension you are intersecting with.” She tensed, and Clint stood up beside her. “I will not touch you, you will not feel anything, but it will let me determine the cause of your...odd occurrences. Is that acceptable?”

Natasha stared back at him for another moment, then nodded. This was as good as she was going to get, and still get answers. 

As soon as she agreed, Clint moved off to inspect the rest of the contents of the room, and Doctor Strange kneeled in front of her. It felt oddly personal, before he began moving his hands in a complicated gesture, conjuring a glowing sigil in front of her. “What I believe you are seeing are energy signatures,” Dr. Strange mused as he leaned closer, studying the sigil. “Something was done to you...Perhaps it merely activated something?” He trailed off as Natahsa leaned back on the chair, doing her best not to squirm. Typically she could sit still for hours and barely twitch, but letting someone,  _ anyone _ , this near her stomach to study her was viscerally uncomfortable for her. Almost as bad as asking for help from such an unknown party.

“So she is definitely seeing actual people, like, in real time?” Good to know Clint wasn’t completely ignoring their conversation. However much of a disaster he seemed, he was endlessly reliable in a mission, and a lot smarter than most of their team gave him credit for. It was one of the reasons Natasha was glad she could count him a friend.

Strange glanced up from his sigil for a moment. “Actual people’s energy, yes, from what used to be humans here. But,” he looked back at Natasha, “Only  _ some  _ of the dead from here go to Epsilon Gamma 23, which I think is what you’re tapping into. So you won’t be able to find just anyo-”

Clint cut him off. “Wait, Epsilon Gamma 23? Shouldn’t it have a more mystical name?”

Strange cast a flat stare at Clint. “Why would it need a mystical name.”

“You’re kidding me, right?” Clint thrust an arm out, encompassing the entire Sanctum with a gesture. “You’re a practitioner of the  _ Mystic  _ Arts.” At Dr. Strange’s continued blank stare, Clint threw up his hands and walked to the other side of the room. “Fine! But I’m still calling them ghosts.”

Strange rolled his eyes and went back to studying the glowing sigil. Nat shifted a little, carefully controlling her breathing before asking quietly, “So, you know how to control this?”

Apparently ignoring her, he continued to focus for a few minutes. Clint was meandering around the room staring at different glass cases, and on the chaise across from her, a familiar form began to flicker into view. Before the figure had a chance to fully construct itself, Clint started tapping on something and the construct looked over at him before vanishing completely.

“Interesting…” Dr. Strange mumbled. 

A little fed up and more than a little spooked, Natasha stood up straight through the golden sigil, which tingled a little before dissipating. “How do I control this?” she demanded.

Letting his hands drop, Strange stood up to face her. “It was starting to come through just then, wasn’t it?”

She blinked once, then buried any self-consciousness she was feeling. “Last time I’m asking. Do you know how to control this?”

Strange nodded slowly and began to stand as Clint made his way to her side, always her backup. “I believe so. It is about focus, concentrating on who you want to bring forth, and how much control you want to give them over our world.”

Clint perked up. “Does that mean they can shoot lighting or, or, affect appliances or something?”

Strange and Natasha sighed simultaneously. “You really do watch too many shows about the paranormal, don’t you,” Dr. Strange quipped. 

“Hey, I am literally asking for a friend right now! And besides, we’ve fought  _ aliens _ . A god used mind control on me. There are no limits here!”

Scoffing, Strange turned around, moving a few steps away before using another summoning sigil to grab a book and start leafing through it. Natasha glanced at the doorway they had come in, but stayed where she was for now.

Still looking at his book, Strange began to address her again. “I do not believe you were born with a predisposition towards inter-dimensional conversation, but it was transferred to you later.” He glanced back at her. “Warped through a traumatic event perhaps?”

Natasha stood rooted to the spot, stony face hiding the mayhem of whirling screams in her mind, as clearly as when she had first heard them. _ There had been a scream at first, not at her, at the instructors, but then it all went quiet. Everything, except for the burbling of blood and air and life being wrung out… _

She redoubled her glare at Strange, willing away the vivid memories and the spinning green sparks she could see in the corner, behind Strange. He seemed to take her glare as a sign that she didn’t care to get into it, and just nodded. “In any case, something focused your sensitivity so that you have direct access to Epsilon Gamma 23, a connection stable enough to allow for further interaction between the two planes. I think I can come up with something to sever, or at least dampen your connection, but it will take time.”

Natasha nodded absently, going over what the Red Room had done to her. She couldn’t remember what it was like before then, but she knew that place had fucked with her innards, had honed her into a more perfect killing machine. Had they done something while she was asleep? Or maybe it was when they talked to her. When they talked to her alone, no one else around…They had done that just before they gave her  _ that _ mission, the cruelest one of all…

She could feel a hand on her shoulder, giving a gentle shake, and she snapped back to reality. “Of course, Dr. Strange. You can leave a message for me through whatever SHIELD connection you have; they will get the information to me.” Nat remembered to flash a brief smile, a little too late from the confusion on Strange’s face.  _ Oh well _ . “Thank you so much for looking into this.”

Strange nodded back at her, muttering “of course,” before gesturing at the door. “If you don’t mind, I’ll be starting my research now. If you remember the way out?”

She just nodded again, taking Clint’s arm and walking briskly from the room. Clint turned to look back, a little distracted now that there was no danger of Nat being poked and prodded further. “Well he was actually pretty helpful. More than I thought he’d be anyway. You know, I-”

Natasha tuned out his babbling, trying to focus on a spot just past the next pillar.  _ So if I concentrate… _

With a tiny  _ pop _ , a large black dog appeared at the base of the column she had been focusing on. He was semi-transparent, with a green energy outlining him against the wall as he stood and took a step forward, nails clacking on the floor. Natasha paused for a moment, but Clint broke away to run forward and pet the ethereal pup. Nat took a few careful steps, watching cautiously as Clint’s hand passed through the dog in a shower of green sparks.

The dog looked up at Clint and wagged his tail, clearly happy for the attention despite the small “aww, hand, no” Clint emitted when he failed to pet the dog. Clint grinned up at Nat as she closed the distance between them. “I like your ghost dog! Do you think you could solidify them enough that Lucky could have a playdate?”

Nat shook her head, bemused that Clint’s complete nonchalance at the dimensional rifts she was causing. “He’s not my dog.” Glancing down at Clint’s puppy eyes, Nat sighed and brushed past him. “I suppose I could practice with this dog. And if we happened to be in the same space as Lucky, it wouldn’t be the  _ worst  _ thing.”

Fortunately, her back was turned to Clint by the time he let out his whoop of delight, so Nat’s smile was completely hidden from view. She heard him skipping to catch up with her and schooled her face back down to neutral, not giving away how much she enjoyed making her best friend happy. Clint hooked his arm around Natasha’s just as they hit the door out of the Sanctum, and Nat was secretly glad for the contact as they joined the flow of people. New York was bad on a regular day, but even worse when you had to second guess if any passing pedestrian was an extra-planar entity.

.❇.❇.⭑⭑⭑.❇.❇.⭑⭑⭑.❇.❇.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO, in cannon, Claire Voyant has medium abilities, is murdered, and then goes around killing bad guys to deliver their souls to Satan.  
> In _this_ fic, Claire Voyant's medium abilities are transferred to Natasha when Claire died in the Red Room, due to Claire's focus on Natasha during the moments surrounding her death.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Clint Barton Birthday Bash Bingo, Square 6: Coffee**

They meandered into a coffee shop on the way back to the Tower, Clint ordering for them both as Nat found them a table at the back. She absentmindedly pulled out her phone to scroll through as Clint waited on their drinks; there were no new notifications, so she paged over to Pepper’s profile. There was a photo of her morning latte next to a stack of Stark Industries letterhead, and an accompanying comment that read “ready for the day”. Nat smiled a little to herself, hearting the photo and scrolling on. 

Just as she hit the photo from last week of Pepper visiting a local animal shelter, Clint leaned over her shoulder, making her jump. 

“Hey, watch the coffee!” Clint backed up half a step, smirking as he avoided her swatting and sat next to her. “Watcha doooooooin?”

Natasha glared at him, locking the phone and grabbing her drink sullenly. “Just distracting myself.”

“Mhmm?” He raised an eyebrow as he took a sip of his own coffee. “With Pepper’s status updates again?”

She narrowed her eyes further. “Ah, so I  _ should _ tell Bucky precisely how much time you spent staring at his photo after that road trip, got it.”

Clint groaned, slumping in his chair. “Fine! Fine, you get amnesty, for  _ now _ . But you really should just ask Pepper out, you know.” He grinned at her, a mischievous glint still in his eye. “She got over Tony  _ ages _ ago, and you would be a- _ dor- _ able together, I just know it.”

It was in that moment that Nat decided payback was in order. Sneaky, viscous payback that would involve Phil and maybe even public compliments. She gave Clint a large, toothy grin in response, gratified to see a little of the blood drain from his face before she abruptly changed the subject. “I think I’ll go back to the tower after this, and practice this inter-dimensional stuff with Claire.” 

Clint nodded, worry creeping onto his face. “You want me there?” He left it at that, but she knew he meant  _ so you can tell what’s real _ . 

Nat shook her head, looking down into her cup. “I’ll be alright. It’ll help me focus on just her, I think, and not have another random dog popping up. We’ve got, ah….a little unfinished business.” 

She glanced over in time to see Clint snort into his coffee, nearly spilling it on himself before setting it back down on the table and grabbing a napkin. “ _ Unfinished business,  _ with your  _ ghost problem _ .” Clint continued laughing for a moment, and Nat smirked back.

Eventually, the laughter slowed, and he knocked his shoulder with hers. “Nat, please just...be careful talking to Claire. I know, I know,” he raises his hands as Nat opens her mouth to object. “She’s not evil, but still. Talking to ghosts from your past can be dangerous.”

It took her a moment, but Natasha softened, reaching out her free hand to take his. “She’s not Barney.”

Clint swallowed and nodded. “I know, but still. Memory lane is a trip, and I don’t want to lose you down it.”

Natasha looked back down into her cup, squeezing Clint’s hand. “I’ll be careful. But I do I need to talk to her; there’s some stuff I want answers on now that I know she can talk.” 

Letting out a breath, Clint squeezed her hand back and took a sip. “Okay. Check in with me when you’re done, okay?”

“Of course. And I’ll have JARVIS contact someone if things get out of hand.” She bumped into his shoulder again. “You’re not losing me to this, Clint. We’ll meet up tomorrow at 10am, yeah?”

"Yeah, alright." She watched as some of the tension eased from his shoulders, though he was still holding his drink too tightly. "I'll bring an extra pastry from that place on 23rd."

Nat's eyebrows want up at that. "Oh? Phil taking you out for breakfast?"

Clint's flushed, drawing a smirk out of Natasha. "...and maybe also Bucky," he mumbled.

She cupped a hand to her ear playfully, enjoying Clint's bashfulness. "I'm sorry, I couldn't make that out. What did you say?"

He scrunched up his face, and said, slightly louder, "PhilandBuckyandIarehavingadate,okay."

Natasha leaned back and laughed, enjoying the flush up Clint’s face. “I’m happy for you,” she said as she nudged him. “But I think you know that if you hurt either of them, I’m coming for you.” She winked, and he just stared at her for a minute.

“...to kill me, or help me escape?”

She shrugged fluidly, attention back on her coffee. “Eh, depends on what you do, I suppose.”

He sighed, muttering “typical,” but they sat enjoying the pleasant silence until their coffees were done. 

Once his cup was drained, Clint looked morosely down into it. “My cup has a bottom,” he complained, and Nat let out a single chuckle.

“So does mine. See you tomorrow?”

Clint hummed and nodded, not looking up from his mug. Smiling, Natasha left him there, striding out the door and down the block towards Avengers Tower, where she was certain Claire was waiting for her.

.❇.❇.⭑⭑⭑.❇.❇.⭑⭑⭑.❇.❇.

She managed to get back to the Tower and up to her floor without any trouble, JARVIS helpfully closing the elevator doors before anyone else could wander by. As she stepped out into her suite of rooms, Natasha called out quietly, “JARVIS?”

“Yes, Agent Romanov?” His voice was pitched to match her quiet tone, coming from the speaker next to the elevator door. 

“I’m going to be speaking with...well.” She sighed. It would be better to arm JARVIS with all the knowledge she could, in case something went wrong. She just hated it. “I am going to spend the next few hours speaking with a….a ghost that has been residing in another dimension. She may have the ability to affect physical objects here, but I do not believe her to be violent. For the duration that I am speaking with her, do not interrupt me unless you have information pertinent to our discussion. Please lockdown my floor, and do not contact anyone about what is happening here unless…” She looked over at the form that had appeared on her couch at the mention of another dimension. “Unless you believe me to have been compromised or incapacitated.”

JARVIS waited a beat before responding. “Of course. Would you like to set preferences on who to contact in the event of your incapacitation?”

“Not Tony. Um...Doctor Strange. Bruce maybe, or Thor. Is Thor still in town?”

“I believe he is showing Lady Sif around the city in preparation for her date with Agent Hill.”

“Perfect. Doctor Strange, Lady Sif, Thor, and Bruce please. They should be able to handle anything that happens.”

“As you wish, Agent Romanov. And good luck.”

She huffed out a laugh at that. “Thanks, JARVIS. Here’s hoping I won’t need it.”

Natasha took another deep breath and walked into the living room. As she rounded the couch, Claire turned her head to track Nat’s movements. “Why didn’t you let me see the doctor’s room?”

Nat focused on keeping up her own stony countenance.  _ This is just another interrogation.  _ Sitting in one of the chairs across from the couch, she made a point to take in every detail of Claire Voyant’s appearance before responding.  _ Just as beautiful as ever. _ “Why are you here?”

Claire chuckled a little at that, not taking her eyes off Natasha. “You called me here, moy pauk. You tell me.”

Natasha looked down at her hands, carefully avoiding eye contact as she answered. “Because I missed you?”

Another warm chuckle disarmed Nat further, the liquid honey from another time in her life, when there was nothing else good but killing efficiently and the warm presence of Claire waiting for her in their room.

“I’ve missed you too,” Claire whispered. “But I also see the way you look at that redhead.”

Caught off guard, Natasha looked up at Claire...who  _ winked _ .

“Oooh, I know you like her.” At Natasha’s aghast expression, Claire laughed again. “I recognize the way you look at her.” She stood up from the couch, closing the distance between them quickly before kneeling in front of her. “My spider, it is okay. I know that I am not really here.You need someone of this world.” With too much gentleness, Claire reached out and took Natasha’s hand in both of her own.

Something broke inside of Nat at that gentleness. “Claire, I…” She stopped, breathing heavy and forced, and looked down at their hands.  _ I owe her this much at least. _ “Claire, I killed you. It was me. They...they said that you had failed a mission, and they were using you to test my loyalty. I thought…” She felt wetness on her cheek, lungs struggling to catch any air at all. She brushed at the tears roughly, anger sliding in where breathless panic had settled a moment ago. She let the rage wash over her, frustration with her tears, with the Red Room, with herself.. “If I didn’t, they would just have someone else kill you, and then me.” The thought stopped her breath again, and Natasha was left with only the sinking in her gut. “ I’m so sorry, Claire.” She bent at the waist, letting the weight of her guilt carry her down, curling in on herself as she heaved the sobs tucked away for years, hidden to protect herself from feeling.

Through all this, Claire sat there, still holding her hand, rubbing circles into her back. Slowly, slowly, the wracking sobs quieted down into whimpering cries, and eventually just into quiet breathing. Natasha stayed there, tear streaks drying on her face, taking comfort in the tingly and strangely solid feeling on her back, but the guilt was welling up again. She slowly unfurled, gratified that Claire’s hand fluidly moved from her back to slide down her arm, but knowing that she didn’t deserve such affection. “Claire…”

“Natasha.” The warmth was gone from Claire’s voice and eyes, but she still held Natasha’s hand as though it were something precious. “They lied to you. I hadn’t been on a mission for two weeks before that night, and that one went off without a hitch.” She leaned in a little, intensity flashing in her eyes as it only had before when they talked of escaping. “They knew about us, moy pauk, and they determined that you were more useful to them than I was.” Claire's face briefly twisted into a vengeful vision at the memory, but she shook her head and, with a dry chuckle, the sweet girl was back. “How wrong they were. Thank you for bringing them down. But we weren’t ever both going to walk out of that place. They dealt in blood, and only knew how to make examples with more blood. Not to mention the bigotry.”

Sheer surprise had a laugh bursting out of Natasha. “The bigotry?”

Claire smirked at Nat’s incredulity. “Yes! They didn’t even  _ consider  _ giving students their own rooms until  _ after _ us.” Claire gave her a warm smile, and reached up to caress her face. “You could not have done anything different unless you died with me, and that would have been a great loss. Do not worry, my spider. My new dimension is not so terrible, and I will come when you call. But I think you have your own life to live.”

Another tear slipped down Natasha’s cheek as she reached over to touch Claire’s face, and was rewarded with a faint buzzing. “I miss you. I never wanted to let you go.”

It was Claire’s turn to close her eyes and lean into the touch, escalating the vibrations in Nat’s hand. “I know.” Claire’s eyes flicked open, and there was mischief in those depths, just as when they would sneak away together as kids to makeout in hidden corners. “But you need to, so you can have a solid run at that Pepper woman.”

Natasha could feel a blush creeping up the sides of her face, something she normally had much more control over. The idea of pushing the feeling away briefly occurred to her, but now was not the time to start having secrets from Claire. “She is still getting over Tony-”

Dismissing her concerns with a wave of a hand, Claire countered, “That was six months ago. You only notice that weirdness because you only spend time with her as the Black Widow anymore, since you let Natalie Rushman drop the job as her personal assistant.” 

Natasha stared for a moment, belatedly remembering the green energy that, yes, she  _ had  _ accidentally summoned as she was handing over her resignation. It had been around five months ago, once Pepper had stabilized enough from the breakup that Natasha could finally admit that being so close without confessing her attraction was eating her alive. Closing her eyes, Natasha asked with incredulity, “what am I supposed to do, ask her for coffee?”

“That would be a good start, yes.”

That surprised her enough that Nat’s eyes fluttered open. “Under what pretense?!”

“The pretense that you want to date her?” Claire scoffed. “We were literally trained to seduce people; how hard could it be?”

“Very,  _ very _ hard. I’m not going to manipulate her into anything. That would completely defeat the purpose.”

Claire raised an eyebrow at Natasha’s sullen expression. “Then don’t use it! Just fucking  _ ask her _ .”

“Oh, just ‘Pepper, would you like to go on a date with me?’”

“Precisely!”

“And what the hell would we talk about?!” Natasha’s arms flung out, more dramatic and less under her control than usual, but talking of dating Pepper so openly flustered her to her core.

“Well,” Claire seemed to think it over for a moment. “What do you normally talk about with your friends?”

Natasha rewarded her with a flat stare. “Friend. Singular.”

“Oh come on, Clint isn’t your only friend.”

The prolonged silence spoke for itself.

“Fine. What do you talk about with Clint?”

Natasha sighed. “Whatever he and Phil have done lately. I tease him about Bucky. Missions we’ve got coming up. The latest stupid thing Tony did. Plotting pranks against the rest of the team.”

Claire poked at her knee. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t mind talking team pranks with you. And you can ask her how Stark Industries is going, and I don’t know, about her favorite color, or, or,  _ musician _ . You can make small talk, my spider; she won’t go running.”

Natasha ducked her head, smiling. “Thank you, Claire,” she said quietly. It had been so long since she’d let anyone comfort her like this, even Clint, and if she was honest with herself, it felt nice. The tingling lessened, and she looked up.

Claire was standing, looking down at her and smiling. “Come on. Let me show you how to make baklava properly.”

Natasha looked up into her old love’s eyes and decided that maybe she could live with this after all.

.❇.❇.⭑⭑⭑.❇.❇.⭑⭑⭑.❇.❇.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If google translate is to be believed, "moy pauk" is "my spider" in Russian


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Natasha Romanov Bingo 2020, Square B4: Bruce Banner**

Natasha and Claire had spent the rest of the day baking and watching various cooking shows, laughing over simple mistakes people made and wondering over the horrifying things that could be done with jello. Natasha managed to concentrate for a few minutes and have the same dog show up again. He wasn’t corporeal enough for pets yet, but Nat was more of a cat person anyway.

Sometime around 9pm, a black cat flickering with green energy appeared and immediately curled up on Claire’s lap. Natasha smiled at the new addition to their couch, before starting forward. The cat disappeared completely, and Claire flickered in and out of view for a few moments.

_ Get a grip on yourself, Romanov _ . A minute of concentration, and both Claire and the cat were back, the former with a worried expression, the latter blinking it’s baleful annoyance at her.

“I’m sorry,” Nat sat up, “I should contact Clint, just to let him know that we’re okay. That I’m okay,” she corrected, reminding herself belatedly that Claire was merely a spectre.

“Of course, moy pauk. Do you need me to pause?”

Natasha glanced at the screen, which showed a man on his way to dump a melting ice cream structure into the bin. “I’ve seen this season before; I don’t need to see his tantrum again. Thank you though,” she called, already on her way out of the living room.  _ Will Claire still be able to watch with me out of the room? Will she still even be there? _ She shoved the questions aside to deal with after she talked to Clint. Her ghosts would keep, but she had a twitchy archer to reassure.

Unlocking her phone, she briefly glanced over her notifications. The Avenger’s group chat had apparently discovered corgi butts, there was a stray message from Bucky asking about a flower garden, and hey, look at that, one of her aliases managed to get pulled for jury duty. She left them for later, tapping instead on the call icon, and selecting HawkGuy 🔰. She got to four rings before he picked up, and had to wait another moment through fumbling noises and a distant Phil asking “-but  _ why _ is Nat a haunted house now?” 

Clint cursed and the audio became a lot clearer as she heard him say “I’ll explain later, it was a joke.” There was a beat of silence accompanied by some footfalls, the closing of a squeaking door, before Clint’s voice came back. “Hey, is everything alright?”

Surprisingly, Nat found herself much calmer at the idea that Phil might know about her powers than she would have been a few hours ago. Everything seemed less terrifying now that she knew Claire wasn’t here for vengeance, was even trying to help her.

That didn’t mean Clint was getting away without some squirming though.

She hitched her breath a little, putting on a serious voice as she asked, “You told Phil?”

“Shit, no, I just, it was a joke, I changed your ringtone, but I didn’t tell him  _ anything _ -” Nat cut his rambling apology off with her laughter. “Wh-wait, Nat, what the fuck!”

She stifled her laughter before realizing that the emotional whiplash she had just put Clint through was maybe a little more than unfair. “Sorry, your frazzled rambling is just funny sometimes. Sorry.”

There was a beat of silence.

“Asshole.” There was a little smile around the word though.

Nat grinned. “That I am. You can tell Phil though, as long as you come with me when they try to stick me in a lab.”

“I don’t know if you deserve it after that,” and yes, that was definitely a chuckle she heard.

“Do I need to make it up to you with homemade pancakes tomorrow?”

“And ruin my fancy date? How dare you!”

“Fine. Dinner tomorrow? Three course meal?”

“Five courses. And it’s at  _ our _ place.”

Nat groaned. Clint was a disorganized mess at the best of times, though Phil was usually pretty prepared. She would need to do some reconnaissance tomorrow to determine how much of her own kitchen she would need to drag along. “You’re lucky I know Phil’s wine preferences.”

“You’re lucky my heart is through my stomach.”

She snickered at that and smiled warmly. “Yeah, I am. Should I be prepping for Bucky too?”

Clint hummed, and Natasha could practically hear the flush climbing over his ears. “I’ll ask him, but it might be too much for one day.”

“Sounds good. Text me if he decides he’s up for it.” She sighed. “I should probably talk to Phil about SHIELD protocols for agents developing new powers.” Nat mulled over if she wanted to be present for Phil and Maria debriefing Dr. Strange about what was...different about her.

Clint cleared his throat. “So….everything is fine between you and Claire?”

Natasha blew out a breath before responding. She had walked into the Tower with so much fear she could hardly move, but now...they had cleared the air, and spent the day in each other’s company like nothing was different. “Yeah,” she sighed out at last. “Everything is fine. I, um. We talked about...about the Red Room. And her death. And my life.”

She stared into the middle distance, while Clint gave her the space to process a moment. He really was a good friend, maybe better than she gave him credit for. Taking a deep breath, she continued. “It was my grief that was keeping her here. I can call her to me now, but she won’t be...haunting me anymore.” Nat smiled ruefully. “We talked about what had happened, and now I can close that box.”

“Good,” Clint intoned after a beat. “I’m glad you had a chance to talk.” He let another moment pass before he asked, more excitedly, “So, that dog?”

Natasha laughed at that. Clint was focused on the priorities, as usual. “I’ll have to practice, but it is  _ possible _ that Lucky can go on playdates with the ghost dog. I did manage to get a cat to come through, so that’s nice.”

“Okay, but that was a malamute mix, and he was  _ adorable _ .” 

Nat laughed again. She was lucky to have him as a best friend, even if both of them fucked up sometimes. He was her ride-or-die, you-can-see-ghosts-so-what, closest person she had. And now she had Claire back too. 

She let herself hope, for just a moment, that things were looking up.

.❇.❇.⭑⭑⭑.❇.❇.⭑⭑⭑.❇.❇.

She knew it was too good to be true.

“No, I’m not letting  _ Tony fucking Stark _ experiment on me.” Her heated reply struck a stone-faced Maria Hill, and an apologetic Bruce Banner. Clint hung back at her shoulder, 

“Well-” Bruce started, but was immediately cut off by Maria Hill.

“Bruce and Helen are experts, but Tony’s advice could provide additional insight. Unless, of course, you’d be willing to summon the ghosts for us, and test their limits?” She made it sound downright reasonable, but Natasha recognized the smirk painted across Maria’s face.

“You’ve been picking up things from Fury I see,” Natasha commented. She had already been planning on a demonstration to provide them with more data, but that was no reason to say anything and lose a bargaining chip. Agent Hill’s smirk only widened as Natasha let out a put-upon sigh. “Yes, alright. If you get Tony out of here, I’ll summon them.”

Agent Hill nodded, now openly smiling, and turned away to remove a bored Tony from the corner of the room. Natasha suspected he had been a plant all along, a ruse to get her to cooperate. What more could you expect from an organization of spies? 

Bruce stayed rooted where he was, blinking after Maria. “Wow. Really makes you worry that we’re the good guys sometimes, doesn’t it?”

Natasha flashed him a worn smile. “It is mostly impossible to tell them apart, but I’m pretty certain we’re still the good guys here, Dr. Banner.” She turned and sat on the chair in the middle of the room, the one spot cleared of crossing cables and various scientific equipment. There weren’t any manacles on the chair, which was a good sign, and Clint was only a foot away from her, providing the warm comfort of good backup. 

Seeming to have recovered himself, Bruce took a step forward and began attaching wireless electrodes to her temples and wrists. “I’ll take your word for it. Now, this shouldn’t hurt at all, but if it does, please let us know immediately. We will be asking you to do a series of things with the, um, extradimensional protrusions, and when we ask you how things feel, please be as detailed as possible..”

“Sure thing, Bruce.”

He nodded and gave her a small smile. “This shouldn’t take too long. Clint, I’m going to need you to take a step back…”

Clint glared at him briefly before Nat put a hand on his arm. “It’s okay, Clint. Just...stay where I can see you, okay?”

He looked down at her to meet her gaze, then nodded and walked carefully around the equipment until he was standing next to Helen Cho, a wary expression on his face. Nat tensed as he walked away, but reminded herself that everyone here was friendly. They were the “good” guys, after all. 

Bruce walked back behind a monitor, starting to tap something out on the screen. After another moment, he called out, “Okay, if you could just, ah, summon a ghost for us.”

Natasha rolled her eyes in time with Clint, then tried to focus. Concentrating on the place in front of her, a green silhouette began to shimmer before realizing into the figure of the friendly malamute mix. The dog cocked it’s head briefly at Natasha before trotting off to Clint, phasing through some wiring on its way. Bruce stared for a moment, before hunching over the readouts with Helen as Clint bent down to try to pet the dog.

“...Nice doggie?” Clint stopped his hand for the dog to sniff at before petting him, but Clint’s hand passed right through again. He furrowed his brow, straightening and staring at his hand. “That tingled. Is it supposed to tingle?”

Natasha shrugged, watching as the dog trotted back over to her. “It tingles more when they’re incorporeal. Otherwise, it’s more of a buzzing?” 

Helen’s head snapped up, eyes focused on Natasha. “Sometimes they are corporeal?”

Natasha nodded slowly, suddenly uncomfortable again. “I thought you debriefed Strange about this?”

“We did, but he thought it would take at least 6 months of training to control the energy dispersions enough to create a corporeal presence here.”

Nat shrugged in response. “He didn’t have all the information. I’ve been seeing them since I was around 16.” Looking away from Helen, Natasha focused on clearing her mind, letting it go back to that clean slate wall. There were vague noises of surprise from around the room, which she took to mean the dog had disappeared. She focused a little harder, bringing to mind the scent of Claire.

There was a flicker of green energy in front of Natasha before the form appeared with a flourish, fully formed in a green gown that stole the breath from her lungs. She vaguely heard gasps elsewhere in the room, but she had eyes only for Claire in that moment. Natasha stood slowly as Claire blinked a smile back at her, tilting her head to the side. 

“I said I’d come when you called, though I admit the gown was more to impress your friends than anything else.” Claire batted her eyes at Helen, who blinked, while Bruce was busy blushing up a storm next to her. Claire gave a twirl, allowing the green sparkling around her to flare up as though she had caused it herself, instead of a rift between their dimensions. 

Natasha chuckled, reminded briefly of Darcy, before stepping forward towards her long-dead partner. “Helen, would you like a display of the corporeal presence interacting with me?”

Glancing up from the computers, Helen smiled. “That would be very helpful, if you could oblige.”

Natasha nodded, catching Claire’s hand. Turning to the flickering presence, she grins. “Would you like to show them how two Red Room adepts can cut a rug?”

Claire flashed a grin and nodded, taking Nat’s hand to a chorus of rapid beeping. Starting off at an annoying pitch, the machines grew to an incessant chorus of alarms as the black-clad assassin took the spectre’s waist, beginning to waltz around the room. Natasha allowed herself to get a little lost in Claire’s eyes, enjoying the dance they never got to have before, but noticing some strange feeling between them.

They began another circuit around the chair she had been sitting in when it hit her. It wasn’t that there was a charge between them anymore; there was only a blank absence where it had been. Through all the glimpses of Claire that Natasha had caught over the years, through realizing that she was real, there had been a tension there the whole time that was broken now. 

Natasha realized her gaze had slipped over Claire’s shoulder, but she brought it back to meet the dark pools staring back at her. There were tears glimmering in the corners of Claire’s eyes, but she was smiling. Natasha smiled back, suddenly pulling Claire into a hug so that her entire front lit up with a buzzing of a swarm of bumble bees. 

“Go,” Claire whispered into her ear, pulling back slightly.

Natasha nodded, and murmured back a quiet “thank you” before turning to Helen. “There is something I need to do. Can use what results you have for now?”

Bruce was seemingly mesmerized by the screens in front of him, but Helen appeared unfazed. Nat supposed that helping create a sentient creature from grown tissue, an AI, and an infinity stone would do that to a person. “I think so,” Helen nodded at her. “Thank you for the data. Would you be able to come back in a week, once we know which additional tests to run?”

Natasha had already begun popping the electrodes off, placing them on the seat of the chair. She flashed a grin at Helen. “Sounds good. Same time next week?”

The scientist just nodded, briefly casting a glance at Clint before going back to her screens. “I assume your archer will be coming with you?”

Natasha cast a glance at Clint, who nodded. “Yeah, he will. Thank you all.”

She allowed herself one last look at Claire, twirling around the room by herself, before Nat turned on her heel and left the lab. She had finally been able to close that chapter on her life. It was time to open a new one.

.❇.❇.⭑⭑⭑.❇.❇.⭑⭑⭑.❇.❇.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Clint set Natasha's ringtone to "Baby You're A Haunted House" by Gerard Way
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
